


Rapture Has Fallen

by MissThang17



Category: BioShock, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissThang17/pseuds/MissThang17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot. Derek Hale has found himself trapped in an underwater dystopian city where nothing makes sense. His only saving grace is a man on a radio and a boy who both frightens and fascinates him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rapture Has Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This is a one-shot I wrote after recently getting immersed in the Bioshock Universe. Enjoy!

_It wasn't just the_ ADAM, _or the strife of the poor. Rapture was doomed from the start._

The sounds of heavy boots smacking against the wet tile floors could be heard throughout the building. Cries of anguish, rage and glee bounced off of the walls and echoed down the halls, the owners of the cries fervently chasing a man through the abandoned medical wing. The man rounded a corner, pressing himself against the wall and engulfing himself in shadow. The assailants sped down the hall, bypassing the concealed man and running straight into a Big Daddy, who growled lowly at the presence of the intruders. As a fight broke out between the greedy Splicers and the gargantuan Daddy, the man slipped away into a storage closet, locking the door behind him.

From the moment Derek Hale stepped foot into that lighthouse, his life had become one of constant terror. There was first the terror of drowning when his ship crashed into something in the water, the fear of starving in the lighthouse if help didn't arrive soon, and the fear of being torn apart by heavily armed drug addicts in his attempt to survive in this strange underwater city. Derek checked the cabinets for bandages and bullets, two things he couldn't afford to go without. On his belt, he carried a revolver, a radio, and a large wrench. The radio was his only connection to it seemed the only sane person left in the city: Atlas. So far, he had been guiding Derek to a submarine that would serve as their escape route.

After making sure his pursuers were gone, Derek exited the storage closet and kept moving. He made his way to the crematorium to get something Atlas referred to as a Plasmid.

_"Plasmids are your best shot of surviving this hell, boyo,"_ Atlas had told him. " _Splicers, Big Daddies, hell, even Andrew Ryan'll seem less intimidating with 'em._ "

Derek searched high and low, ducking under counters and behind corners whenever he heard the ragged breathing of a Splicer, until he managed to find an overturned Gatherer's Garden machine in a locked office. Spotting an air vent by the door, Derek shimmied into the locked room, careful not to drench himself in the oil spilled on the floor. As he entered, he heard a rustling noise. He turned towards the sound with his pistol in hand, ready to fire, when a boy emerged from the shadow.

The boy was young, seventeen if Derek had to guess, with pale skin and messy brown hair. His face and body appeared to be free from any deformity, which led Derek to believe he wasn't one of the Splicers. Derek lowered his gun, and the boy drew closer. He was much shorter than Derek, and quite thin, his cheeks beginning to look gaunt due to starvation.

"Please," the boy whispered. "Keep quiet or they'll hear you."

Despite listening to the boy's plea, a Splicer spotted the two through the window, and let out a horrifying shriek. Soon the entire office was surrounded with Splicers, beating the windows and walls with pipes and wrenches and pieces of wood. The boy ducked under the desk, motioning for Derek to do the same. Once they were both safely under cover, the boy pointed a finger at the oil spill, which promptly combusted.

Derek watched in both fascination and horror as the ignited oil spread to the exterior of the office, incinerating the mad assailants alive. The crackle of the fire and the shrieks of the burning Splicers made for a cacophonous harmony as the flames died out, along with its victims.

"We need to leave," the stranger said quietly.

He slowly picked himself up and walked cautiously to the exit, using a small key to unlock the door. Derek followed the small male, abandoning every rational instinct he had to run the other way. The boy led him to an electronic door which, after another flick from the strange boy's fingers, sparked to life and opened for them. They entered a small room with an elevator in the center of the space.

"Where are we going?" Derek inquired as the boy pressed a bronze button to call up the elevator.

"Neptune's Bounty. That's where you wanted to go, right?"

"How did you know that?" Derek asked, taken aback.

The boy offered him a wry smile. "Your radio has been going off every five minutes."

Derek started as he realized his radio was indeed going off. He could hear Atlas chattering away, giving survival tips and lamenting the loss of his family in the Rapture Civil War. He turned the volume on the radio down to a murmur, not wanting to draw the attention of any Splicers. As the elevator reached their floor and the ornate fencing slid away, the two climbed into the tube, pressed up against one another in the cramped space.

Derek looked down at the boy, smirking as he realized their close proximity was making the boy blush.

"I'm Derek, by the way."

"I'm Stiles. Welcome to Rapture."

~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~

Derek had made a promise to himself when he first arrived in Rapture. He promised himself that if he ever managed to escape the sunken city, he would give up the fishing business, there wasn't much of a market for it anyway, move to a nice, quiet town and settle down. He had hated the big city he lived in on the surface and he sure as hell didn't like the one he was currently trapped in 20,000 leagues under the sea.

Stiles talked about returning to his childhood hometown in California if he could escape. He wanted to see the vast forests and eat at the little diner by his old house; visit the McCall boy he'd had a crush on in the third grade. Derek tried more than once to get the boy to tell him more about Rapture, but Stiles would become quiet and suggest they keep moving. It wasn't until they reached the docks of Fontaine's Fisheries that Derek got any answers.

They had been searching for a tunnel to take them to the submarine Atlas had mentioned when they were ambushed by Splicers. Some carried guns, others pipes and hooks, each with bloody, deformed faces and hands.

"Give us the boy, li'l fishy," one of them croaked. "An' we'll let ya go."

"All we want is the ADAM!" a woman shrieked, shaking her gun in their direction.

"Nothing like a Little Sister with no metal daddy to protect her," came the reedy voice of a spider Splicer.

Before Derek could react, Stiles let out an unearthly cry, which was met with a low, muffled roar. The Splicer nearest Stiles clubbed him with a wrench, rendering the boy unconscious, before being tackled by a Big Daddy.

The metal giant took down each of the Splicers in quick succession, while Derek knelt down to check on Stiles. The boy was out cold, but the gash on his head had already begun to heal. The wound closed and the skin knitted itself together, leaving only a tiny trace of drying blood on his temple as evidence of his assault.

Once the Splicers were defeated, the Big Daddy turned to Derek, its helmet glowing crimson. It stared at Derek, as if it were giving him the once over, before the glow turned a light green as the beast turned and shuffled away.

Derek picked up the limp boy and carried him to a storage closet, which was becoming his favorite hiding place. He laid Stiles onto a pile of crates, and began searching the room for bandages and bullets. Not long after Derek began his search, Stiles' eyes fluttered open.

"Wha...what happened?" He inquired.

"A bunch of those Splicer things ambushed us, one called you a Little Sister, you screamed, and a Big Daddy came and killed them all," Derek muttered bitterly.

"Yeah, about that..." Stiles began nervously, scratching the back of his head.

"You didn't tell me you were one of those _things_ ," Derek spat.

"That's because I'm not one of those things," Came Stiles' cold reply.

" _Would you two quit yer squabblin', ya sound like an old married couple,_ " Atlas interjected through the radio. " _Jus' get to Smuggler's Hideout quick as ya like so we can leave this godforsaken place._ "

The two looked at the radio attached to Derek's belt, then at each other.

"Truce?" Stiles asked with a shrug.

Derek simply nodded, before unlocking the storage closet door and walking back out into the Fisheries.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The submarine was a waste of time. Not only was it inoperable, but Andrew Ryan sent a horde of Splicers to kill them. Atlas joined the duo, he and Derek gunning down the Splicers while Stiles slowed them down with bursts of fire and electricity. One Splicer managed to fire a few rounds accurately at Derek, but before the bullets could reach him, they were suspended in mid-air. Stiles flicked his wrist and sent the bullets careening back at the remaining Splicers, sending a bullet through each of their heads.

Not long after that they heard the explosion. They rounded the corner to see the submarine in flames, along with the crazed Splicer who detonated the bomb.

"We were so close!" Atlas roared, slamming his fist on a metal table. "Ain't that just like Ryan! Waits until we're almost out, and then he pulls the goddamn string!"

Derek and Stiles looked at one another, apprehension on both of their faces. Finally, after a few moments of silence, Stiles approached the enraged man.

"What do we do now, Atlas?" he asked softly.

Atlas turned slowly to Stiles, placing a large, calloused hand onto his shoulder. "Now we find the bastard," he said lowly. "We find him and we tear his heart out. And you're the key to that, Sweetheart."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Arcadia was a lush paradise, the Tea Gardens full of twinkling lights and vibrant flowers. Stiles remembered how much he used to love the gardens. He had been there once before, on a date with Jackson Whittemore, one of Rapture's most eligible bachelors. He was handsome and arrogant, but he was also kind. He picked a bouquet of beautiful flowers for Stiles, which the smaller boy kept on his bedside table until the stems dried and the petals turned black and shriveled. It was the first and only date the two went on, as the Whittemore's left Rapture quickly after the riot at the Kashmir Restaurant.

Though the garden was still just as breathtaking, it was also filled with horror. Dead Splicers floated in the puddles of water, men in masks spat fire and vanished in a puff of smoke.

Atlas was leading them to a bathysphere that would take them directly to Ryan. He was convinced that Stiles was the key to killing him, though Derek could only guess as to why. There were a lot of silent communications between Stiles and Atlas: Atlas would give Stiles a knowing look, sometimes a smirk, and Stiles would cast his eyes downward or give the man a harsh glare. Derek wasn't fond of these exchanges, nor the way Atlas referred to Stiles as 'Sweetheart.'

"We're almost to the bathysphere station," Atlas commented, slinging his tommy gun over his shoulder.

They had just reached the door when the spouts overhead released a putrid, foul-smelling gas into the air.

"Oh Jesus, it's some kind of pesticide!" Atlas yelled, grabbing Stiles and pulling him to the ground.

Derek spotted two dead Splicers in the corner, each wearing gas masks. He pulled the masks off of the corpses and put one on himself, handing the other to Stiles. Stiles shook his head, handing it to Atlas.

"The gas won't affect me," he said in response to the bewildered look Derek gave him.

Atlas pulled on his mask, his features grim. "Alright, now I'm pissed."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Before becoming a fisherman, Derek went to UCLA to study business. A child prodigy, Derek got his masters, made Dean's List, and graduated at the top of his class by the time he was twenty-four. Despite all of his academic successes, Derek knew absolutely nothing about plants. Some woman named Dr. Langford had given them a list of things they needed in order to neutralize the toxin Ryan had released, just before her own demise at the hands of the psychotic tycoon.

As they gathered the things they needed, the three reached a section of the gardens that appeared to be an orchard. There were clusters of trees growing ripe, healthy fruits. Stiles waved his hands, in that strange way he did, and fruits began falling from the tree and floating towards him. He handed Derek an apple, motioning for him to sit down as he tossed Atlas an orange.

"What in god's name are you two doin'?" Atlas questioned. "We've got work to do."

"We have to eat sometime," Stiles reminded him, biting into a pear.

Atlas shot him a look, but sat down to eat with them none the less. The orchard had only one entrance, and the three kept their eyes glued on it as they ate, wary of Splicers finding them.

"Isn't this just peachy," Atlas muttered. "Nothin' like a picnic in the park with maniacs and psychopaths." He looked over to Stiles, a smirk on his face. "Least I've got a good view."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Getting the mister in Dr. Langford's lab was simple enough, it was the nearly infinitesimal waves of Splicers storming the lab that was difficult to manage. Atlas had rigged several cameras and turrets outside of the lab to shoot the assailants on sight, and Derek had set up a few land mines around the entrance. Stiles snapped his fingers and the floors froze over, making the surface slick and difficult to gain traction on.

Even with all of their precautionary measures, the ensuing battle was a tremendous feat. Bullet and fireballs flew back and forth as the machine gurgled and spat and finally released the antidote to Ryan's toxin. Once the remaining Splicers had been dealt with, the three survivors made their way to the Bathysphere, beaten and bruised, but undefeated.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was a when Sander Cohen was little more than an eccentric artist, throwing parties with wine and drugs and naked women and men for him to paint and his guests to fuck. Of course, with the disintegration of society and the addictive qualities of ADAM, he soon fell prey to madness, as many other citizens of Rapture had before him.

He had taken over Fleet Hall, as well as the Bathysphere that lead to Andrew Ryan's office. He had offered the survivors passage if they only kill his former students and bring him the photographic evidence for his quadtych.

"There's three targets," Atlas explained to his companions. "That means one fer each of us."

"I'm not leaving Stiles," Derek stated, crossing his bulky arms over his chest.

"I'll be fine, Derek," Stiles said, placing his hand on Derek's arm. "I can take care of myself. Let's just get this over with."

Derek looked reticent, but he nodded all the same. They split apart, each going in a different direction. Derek had been tasked with killing Silas Cobb, Sander Cohen's favorite student. When he reached the record shop where he was hiding, he prayed to whomever may be listening that he would be forgiven for this sin.

The battle with Cobb was grueling: the marked man had explosives and turrets and consorts willing to kill for him. Through quick thinking, endurance and an almost inhuman burst of athleticism, Derek managed to kill Cobb with one of his own explosives. Just as the man breathed his last, Stiles and Atlas arrived, camera in tow. Atlas had a cut on his cheek and Stiles, while physically fine, looked tired and dirty.

"So much bloodshed," Stiles murmured, moving closer to Derek. He took a picture of the charred corpse, waiting for the polaroid to develop before sticking it into his pocket with the other photos.

On their way back to Cohen's exhibit, they spotted a Big Daddy in a war with three Splicers. A Little Sister screamed as she watched her protector kill two of the Splicers before being blown to bits by the third. The Little Sister backed away in terror as the greedy Splicer drew nearer.

"This isn't our fight," Atlas muttered into Derek's ear. "We have to get to Ryan, and we can't afford any distractions."

Stiles looked at the man in horror, before taking the pistol from Derek's belt and shooting the Splicer in the head. The Little Sister shrank into the corner as Stiles approached. He extended his hand, which the girl took nervously. Derek watched in awe as both Stiles and the girl began to glow a brilliant gold hue; the dark, claustrophobic room filling with a light more radiant than the sun itself.

When the light faded, the Little Sister's gaunt, pallid skin was a rosy, healthy color, her iridescent yellow eyes now a normal shade of blue.

"Thank you," came the girl's voice, as she handed Stiles her dirty syringe full of harvested ADAM and escaped to a Little Sister vent.

"Shoulda known," Atlas said darkly, shaking his head. "Once a Sister, always a Sister, eh Sweetheart?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sander Cohen was pleased with the photos, and allowed them access to his Bathysphere. Once there, the three began their descent to Hephaestus Square.

Their journey through the boiler room was filled with terrors: the Splicers they encounter were mutated beyond comprehension, the security defenses so advanced even Atlas couldn't crack them.

Halfway to the door that would take them to Ryan's office, Derek was struck down by a rabid Splicer. Stiles and Atlas were fighting off their own demons, leaving Derek stuck as his assailant loomed over him.

"Time to die, Li'l Fishy," he rasped, raising his bloody hook over his head.

Before the Splicer could strike, he was bludgeoned with a large, rusty wrench. Derek looked up to see Stiles, covered in dirt and blood, wielding the wrench as one would a sword. In that moment, Derek saw not a boy, but a warrior. The fire in Stiles' eyes, the power in his stance, the way the air around him seemed to crackle was almost too much for Derek to bear witness to.

Stiles offered Derek his hand, and Derek marveled at the soft, smooth feeling of Stiles' skin as he pulled him up.

"Are you alright?" he asked the older man.

"I'm fine. Thank you, Stiles," Derek responded gruffly.

Stiles merely nodded, and the two joined Atlas as they continued on their journey to the office of Andrew Ryan.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So it has come to this."

The three survivors stood at the entrance of Andrew Ryan's office. The door to the interior of the room had been sealed off. In front of them was a large window, where they could see Andrew Ryan playing golf.

"When I first built Rapture," he spoke, "I envisioned a refuge for the finest specimens mankind could offer. Poets, Philosophers, Kings and Queens were all welcome in my new paradise. Unfortunately, the scourge of the surface found its way in as well. I did not build this place for the likes of you, and yet here you stand: A terrorist, a biological abomination, and a fisherman. The comfort I can offer myself is that you will not be standing there for long. Goodbye, Parasites."

"NOW!" Atlas yelled.

Stiles raised his hand, pointing it directly at Ryan. The glass that divided them shattered, just as a wave of security bots flew in. Atlas and Derek fought them off, while Stiles entered the office, searching for Ryan.

The office was dark, and every shadow Stiles could see appeared to be moving. He raised a hand and a brilliant flame emerged from his fingertips. He found Ryan sitting behind his desk, polishing his club. He was about to incinerate the man when he heard something whirring through the air. He felt a sharp pain in his neck, looking down to see a dart piercing his skin.

Almost instantaneously, the flames in Stiles hand dwindled to nothing, and the boy found he could no longer conjure any of his powers.

"ADAM is a powerful thing," Ryan mused. "But even it has its limits. You, my remarkable child, are completely immune to ADAM sickness, so I had to find my own way of thwarting you. Dr. Suchong invented an ADAM suppressant before he died, which I had delivered directly to me. Unfortunately, the effect is only temporary, but you will be dead before the drug wears off."

He reached into his desk and pulled out a golden revolver, aiming it at Stiles' head. "Goodbye, dear child."

A shot rang out, but not from Ryan's gun. Andrew Ryan slumped over in his chair, a bullet hole in his head. Derek holstered his gun, making his way over to Stiles. Before he could reach him, Atlas clubbed him over the head, and his vision faded to black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Derek awoke, he found eight pairs of big doe eyes in varying shades peering down at him.

"Look, he's awake!" One of them whispered.

"Do you think he's friendly?"

"Now, now, Little Ones, give him some space," came a tired, motherly voice.

Derek sat up, looking over to see a woman, roughly ten years older than himself, approach. She had long curly hair that framed her pale face. She was pretty, but not overly so. She pulled up a chair and sat down next to Derek.

"My name is Dr Brigid Tenenbaum, what is yours?" she asked softly.

Derek looked at the woman, eyes mistrustful. "Derek."

"Do you know why you are here, Derek?"

"I don't know much of anything anymore."

She offered him a sad smile. "I am sorry to hear that Fontaine betrayed you, but this comes as no surprise to me. He has always been a cruel man."

Derek raised his brow, puzzled. "Who's Fontaine? The only man who betrayed me is Atlas...and Stiles..." Derek stared down at his hands. It was difficult to process their betrayal.

Tenenbaum sighed, rubbing her face.

"You are confused, Mein Liebling*, Stiles did not betray you, and there is no man by the name of Atlas. Let me explain:

Many years ago, when I first came to this city, I became interested in a sea slug that cured a man's hands. When I began my research into this sea slug, none of the labs in Rapture would take me. I received financing and support from a man named Frank Fontaine, who greatly encouraged my studies. With his help and the brilliance of Dr. Suchong, we created a substance known as ADAM. We couldn't manufacture enough from just the sea slugs alone, so we had to find an alternative.

Our first idea was human hosts. We tried implanting the sea slugs in the stomachs of adults, teenagers, and children. Many of these hosts died. The only ones to survives were female children. But one of our teenagers survived. His body accepted the slug completely, and he was our biggest producer of ADAM."

"Stiles," Derek growled.

Tenenbaum nodded.

"Yes, Stiles. When we began using ADAM to create Plasmids, Stiles was able to use them with ease, and even created some of his own unique Plasmids we were never able to duplicate. When others began using ADAM, we found the demand for it too great, so Fontaine set up the Little Sister program, which brainwashed the Little Ones and forced them to harvest ADAM.  
Soon I was unable to live with myself for what I did to these children, so I began to reverse the brainwashing and saved as many Little Ones as I could. Once I freed Stiles, he ran away and hid, not to be seen again. That is, until you came to Rapture."

As she spoke, Tenenbaum began to tear up, and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"I never meant to hurt anyone, and now one of my poor Little Ones is being held hostage by that monster. I know what you must think of me, but I beg of you, save Stiles. I have been preparing a submarine that will take myself and my Little Ones to the surface. If you can bring Stiles to it, I will take you as well."

Derek mulled it over, though he already knew what his choice would be.

"I'll do it."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

During his time in Rapture, Derek had come full circle. Once again, he was wandering through a filthy city alone, with nothing but a wrench, a pistol, and a stranger guiding him through a radio. Without Fontaine's guns or Stiles' powers, Derek had to once again rely on shadows and stealth to get through the city. He made his way to the old Little Sister training area, and tried his hardest not to think about Stiles being held captive in such a place.

Just as Derek entered Point Prometheus, he heard his radio go off.

" _You're wasting your time, kid,_ " a sinister voice drawled. " _Our little Sweetheart here is in the middle of having his pretty little head wiped clean. Soon I'll have the best of the best harvesting ADAM and doing his little parlor tricks all for me. I may eve find some extra uses for those hands of his._ "

Derek's murderous thoughts were interrupted by Tenenbaum's equally furious voice.

" _Bastard! To put that poor child through this nightmare again! He is no better than the Nazis! I must think....ah! Of Course! Derek, find a Big Daddy suit and put it on. Hurry!_ "

It took some scrounging and more than a few nasty encounters with Splicers, but Derek finally found an empty Big Daddy suit and helmet. Once Derek had the gear on, his radio crackled to life once more.

" _Have you found one? Good. Now, go to the Learning Center, there you will find pheramones that will make you smell like those golems. If Stiles is already being conditioned, your scent will attract him as his protector, and we will have him back!_ "

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Derek was a boy, he remembered his mother and father constantly telling him and his siblings about when they first fell in love.

Derek's father had just built his company from the ground up, and was ready to launch it. Dealing mostly in electronics, HaleTech was going to be the way of the future. The only problem was the company needed more funds to go public. Derek's father knocked on every door in town, begging for financial support, until finally, he met Talia.

Talia was a wealthy socialite, bored and in search of a new, exciting life. When the two first met, there was little to no attraction between the two. As they worked together, building and shaping a company, they became enamored with one another.

"And then one day, it all just...clicked," his father would say. "I looked at her and saw everything I didn't have, everything I wanted, and everything I knew I didn't deserve."

This saying often puzzled Derek as a child, how could any one person be so many things? The answer to that question eluded Derek for years, until a grimy elevator took him up to where Fontaine was holding Stiles.

Stiles had been rigged to some surgical table, with tubes stuck in every inch of him, pumping him full of ADAM. When Fontaine noticed Derek's arrival, he let out a fierce cry, alerting his Splicer goons to the intruder. As Derek fought off the crazed Splicers, Fontaine ripped Stiles out of the machine and shoved him aside, placing himself in his place.

The overload of ADAM mutated Fontaine beyond belief, his skin a gun metal gray, his veins bright red. He jumped out of the machine and began spitting fire, roaring and stomping about like something out of a nightmare.

Derek grabbed a tommygun laying on the floor, spraying the beast with round after round of bullets. Fontaine roared and, with a mighty swing of his arm, knocked Derek to the ground.

As he pushed himself up, Derek saw Tenenbaum's saved girls jabbing Fontaine with their syringes, draining his ADAM. As the giant became weaker and weaker, a large, final syringe was shoved deep into his back.

Derek looked up to see Stiles, disheveled but otherwise intact, extracting the last of the evil man's ADAM. As the light drained from his eyes, Stiles uttered a single phrase.

"Nighty night, Mr. Bubbles."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The horror was over. Tenenbaum led Derek and her rescued Little Ones to a submarine that shot the survivors straight to the surface. And there, bathed in the morning sunlight, Derek looked to Stiles, and saw it. He saw everything he wasn't, everything he wanted, and everything he didn't deserve. What he didn't expect, however, was for Stiles to look at him and see the same.

They had survived, they had found one another and fought their way to a better life. And as Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and melded his lips with his own, he knew that all of the bad was worth the ounce of good he received.

The group went on to find a cozy farmhouse in a small town known as Beacon Hills. For the rest of their days they lived there: a scientist, her precious children, a Little Sister and his Big Daddy.

**Author's Note:**

> *My Dear


End file.
